Montgomery stood atop the old oak bar in the White Mule Tavern. The promise of free whiskey had drawn a large crowd of local farmers, tradesmen, and layabouts. Sheriff Brandt stood by, puffing thoughtfully on a brougham pipe.

"Now listen! None of you, none of your families, your wives are safe! If these villains can burn the Locke Farm, Miller's Farm, the Mill... they can burn any of us out! If they can murder Locke, Mrs Miller, and Matt Stanford, they can murder any of you! Right now, while we stand here, they are making for the North with a large number of stolen slaves. The slaves that remain here are restless, insolent and ready to rebell! We must track them down and stop them, before every farm is in flames and every slave rises in bloody revolution!" Montgomery sipped his whiskey as the crowd applauded amid shouts of "Hear! Hear!"

"Now we have Mr Tate Hartung, one of the best trackers in the South, hot on their trail, but we need a body of men to pick up the pursuit. Who will go with me? You will be paid for it, but I hope you will go because you want to defend your homes and families!" Two dozen hands shot up. "Good! Mr Goodbetter..."

Patience's brother stood on the bar. "You know what these men did to my sister and her family! I ask you to avenge them! Bring these white men back to hang! Bring the blacks back as examples to their fellow slaves! You leave in an hour from here! You loyal sons of the South must prepare to chase them all the way to Canada if need be!"